Sleepless: (Billionaire Bound: Part 2) A Dark New Adult Romance (2 page)

Ciaran’s hands lifted, cupping her breasts from behind, lifting them upward as his head hooked over her shoulder, as though presenting them to himself. His thumbs circled around her nipples for a long moment, her breath starting to pick up as they hardened beneath his touch. All at once, he was letting go. “On the bed, on your hands and knees. Face the headboard.”

Her brown eyes flashed toward that beautiful construction of bondage again, and she stepped away from him, climbing onto the bed and kneeling on it. She blushed deeply to present her rear to him, trembling all over to be bent this way.

Beth thought for a moment about turning to see what he was doing, but she swallowed the impulse and shut her eyes; she squeaked when his fingers brushed unceremoniously against the damp lips of her slit, and her throat tightened further. “You are already aroused,” he murmured, almost surprised—and yet there was a note of pleasure in his voice. “Have you thought about that night, since the party?”

She bit her lip in hesitation, only to yelp as his hand slapped down onto her rear, gasping as pain and heat blossomed on her skin. “Yes,” she answered quickly, “yes, Master… I… I’ve thought about it a lot. I… wanted more.”

Beth squealed as he spanked her again, this time on her other cheek. She realized, though, that each spanking made her wetter, hotter, and she blushed deeply. She could almost feel his smirk, even though she wasn’t looking behind her. “And you shall have more, sweet Bethany… Much more.” She heard him moving away from the bed, from her, and her stomach twisted into knots for the long moments it took for him to return. He was near her shoulder this time when he came back.

“Open your mouth.” Without hesitation, she obeyed, only to squeak in surprise as she felt a large rubber ball being pressed into her mouth, silencing her completely, except for a soft moan of questioning. Ciaran didn’t answer her as he lifted her black curls and fastened the gag at the back of her head. Seconds later, a thick black cloth covered her eyes, completely blocking out any sight around her. The bed shifted as he drew back again.

“I had suspected that you were submissive by nature, sweet Bethany,” he told her as he drew back—except for his fingers, which made a slow path from her neck down her side, to her hip. Every touch felt like electricity down her spine, with her unable to tell what he was going to do next and unable to ask. “Since first I laid eyes upon you in your bakery—those wretched teenagers harassing you. I must say, however, that I had not imagined you would… take to it so well. This sensation of helplessness.” His fingers were on her womanhood again, lightly caressing her folds and making her quiver. Beth moaned into her gag, the sound muffled and tempting, and Ciaran chuckled. “Of giving all control to another… But if you are so responsive, then I will show you what this truly feels like…”

A squeal split the air as something hard and rectangular smacked into her rear, and Beth arched in alarm and pain. All at once, she realized that he had found a paddle, discontent with only using his hand on her ass, and she whimpered faintly. His free hand was moving, caressing the spot he must have reddened, until the sting was fading, and the tension was creeping out of her curves where she knelt on the bed. Without warning, the paddle was being brought down again, though, and Beth cried out, twisting her nails into the black sheets of the bed. Ciaran’s hand was back, soothing her pain again, and she blushed as she realized that every time he spanked her, more of her wetness was running down her thighs, and her lower lips were growing puffier, needier.

Three more times, the harsh paddle was brought down on her exposed rear; each time, his hand soothed her pain until she relaxed again. He didn’t say a word, but when she heard the paddle being set on a table, she realized that each time he had been waiting to see if she would try to say that word, if she was going to alert him to stop, and she hadn’t. She hadn’t even thought about saying it, despite how her rear ached and throbbed, surely as red as her cheeks. Her slit was soaked, dripping onto the bed.

Bethany could hear Ciaran moving away from the bed again, and with that sound came the rustling of clothes; he was undressing. “Move to the head of the bed and turn around.” She did as commanded, whimpering faintly as she sat upon the pillows, even that stinging her. “Lie down.” Again, she obeyed, and a moment later she felt his hand grasping her wrist and moving it to one of the cuffs on the headboard. It was one of the lower ones, so that her wrist was almost on the same level as her head; he moved around to the other side and locked her other wrist the same way. She felt the bed shift beneath her as he climbed on with her, his fingers grazing her thighs.

Without any warning, he was grabbing her ankles and lifting them—moving them higher and higher until they were at one of the higher pair of cuffs on the headboard. Beth squealed in surprise and squirmed, but Ciaran ignored her as he locked her ankles to the bed too, so that her midriff was folded over with her ass in the air again. “Comfortable?” he inquired, partly bemused and partly serious.

Of course she wasn’t comfortable, Beth thought, and she grumbled at him through her gag to try and tell him as much. He chuckled, and his weight shifted as he reached for something on the side of the bed. She waited, her heart still pounding, not knowing what was going to come next. Her brow furrowed when it did come, gasping into her gag at the trickle of icy water that started at her navel and ran downward to pool beneath her breast. She shivered and squirmed where she was bound; then, suddenly, there was a sharp, freezing hardness against one of her nipples, and Beth squealed and cried out, writhing as her nipple hardened beneath the ice cube. Another ice cube was pressed against her other nipple, and she whined upward at him desperately.

Her breathing was even harsher than before, as she drooled against the ball in her mouth, and yet for almost a minute—and what felt like a lot longer—Ciaran pressed the ice cubes against her nipples until they were melted, and the tips of her breasts felt harder than they had ever felt before. “Good girl, sweet Bethany… You took that better than I would have expected. I have found, however, that a good use of ice cubes is the best way to introduce someone in your position to nipple clamps.”

Clamps. Did he say nipple clamps? Beth squealed in dismay through her gag, even as he reached around her legs and cupped one of her breasts, holding it still as she squirmed so that the rubber-coated teeth of the clamp could close around her nipple. She moaned and arched, digging her nails into the palms of her hands and biting down on her gag as her other breast was treated the same, making sure her nipples stayed hard. Panting, she shifted, even though she knew that she would never grow used to that sensation, and then her cheeks went a deep red. There were bells on the clamps. Every time she moved, they jingled. Beth swallowed.

“Much better… I was always a cat person, and what is a pet without a bell, hm?” Ciaran teased her, flicking one of the bells and making it jingle even more. She moaned at him plaintively, but he only laughed. By the way he shifted, she knew his attention was moving lower again, and she trembled as his hands ran down the back of her thighs. Despite the ice, and the clamps, and the complete embarrassment of her position, she knew she was still hot, still soaked, and he knew it too as his finger pressed through the folds of her slit and rubbed tenderly at her clit. “I didn’t really get a good look at this flower before, did I? How about this, sweet Bethany—if you are enjoying what I’m doing, you make those bells of yours jingle, hm? Whether or not I continue doing it is at my discretion, but you have been a good girl this day…”

She swallowed, her brow furrowing at the terms of his game, even as she moaned faintly for how he played with her clit. Still paying attention to it, his other hand was moving and parting her nether lips, caressing just along the inside slowly. Beneath her blindfold, she shut her eyes, moaning a bit louder and then shifting her torso back and forth so that her bells jingled for him; she shuddered when she realized that the motion made her clamps tug even more on her hardened nipples, but God did that feel good.

At once, he stopped. She froze and then whined up at him through her gag, but his hands had pulled back, obviously intent on not letting her enjoy those gentle affections. Beth grumbled up at him, trying to wiggle her hips upward temptingly—only to cry out, very loudly, into her gag when instead of his fingers, there was another ice cube rubbing at her clit. Almost immediately, it startled melting against her burning heat, trickling down over her navel and stomach and pooling against her breasts again. Those breasts that were shifting back and forth and jingling up a storm.

“Like that, do we?” Bethany groaned when he took her jingling exactly how she didn’t mean it, and an ice cube was being pressed against her tunnel, rubbing against her excruciatingly, and when it had melted enough, slipping inside of her. Her teeth parted against the ball gag, hissing as he tormented her, even for how her arousal only grew hotter and hotter. A second later, another piece of ice was rubbing at her again, and it melted even faster than before. All the while she couldn’t stop writhing, moaning and bucking her hips where she was trapped against the head of the bed.

His hands drew back with a third piece of ice nestled between her lower lips, melting against her idly while she whimpered and moaned. Beth’s brow furrowed when there was a soft whirring noise coming from where he sat. Something hard and vibrating was drawing against the soft, sore skin of her ass, up one thigh, and then the tip rubbed against her pubes. She hissed again, her slender body tensing, as the tip crept closer and closer to her slit…

Ciaran pressed it mercilessly against her clit, and she cried out, her hips bucking in the awkward position she was bound in and her wetness gushing forth from inside of her, all heat and need as she writhed. The vibration grew harder, faster, and she was jerking her hips back and forth as best as she could, almost trying to draw it inside of her; instead, there was another piece of ice, and this time he didn’t wait for it to melt before pressing the tip of it inside of her. Bethany squealed and trembled, jerking around in her bonds as she was pleasured with the vibrator and fucked with an ice cube, grinding her teeth into the ball gag, digging her nails into her palms.

“Come, sweet Bethany.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. Overwhelmed, every part of her aching and shuddering and soaked, she screamed into her gag and her shoulders pressed into the pillows, unintentionally pressing her a few inches further off the bed as her slit pulsed, convulsing and then shuddering as her arousal exploded from her, white hot and even more intense than the night in his penthouse. Grunting faintly as she slowly relaxed again, her wetness trickled down her stomach with the ice water, and the vibrator was drawn away, its hum ceasing. She felt Ciaran’s hands against her jaw, locating the clasp of her gag and relieving her mouth.

“We will have to work on your stamina, I believe… Good girl, Bethany.”

“Thank you, Master,” she breathed, letting her head collapse onto the pillows beneath her.

It was early. It had to be early because that was the only time Bethany could find any time to be by herself, over the past few days that she had been staying in Ciaran’s cabin. As she shifted beneath the sheets of her bed and pushed the covers away, her legs were still trembling from the night before, when he had made her stand for what had felt like hours, her ankles caught in a spreader bar and her wrists chained to the ceiling. Impaled upon a vibrator. He had sat nearby, pristine and perfect, sipping red wine, just watching as wave after wave of orgasm wracked her body where she was bound. The bit gag he’d made her wear had been completely demeaning—and completely perfect, with her reduced to little more than an animal for him.

Beth licked her lips at the memory, feeling heat stir between her thighs, before her fingers lifted and brushed at the dark green leather collar he had put around her throat the afternoon before. It was a strange thing, to be wearing a collar, and yet every moment was exhilarating as she moved toward the window behind her bed, watching as a pink sun crested the tops of the pine trees. It had made that moment surreal, and all the more intense, to just be claimed that way, for everything he wanted. For anything he wanted. Was it strange that she desperately,
desperately
wanted to be that anything for a long time to come? God, she still barely knew this man, and it wasn’t like the last few days had left much time for actual conversation.

There was a part of her that didn’t care, though. A part of her that didn’t pay attention what her family in Wyoming would say if they knew what she was doing, a part of her that didn’t care even a little if Kylie was still angry with her. She needed this. Not just for the bakery, she had needed
this
. This part of Ciaran’s world that wasn’t model thin and fancy dresses. She was just herself in those moments, even though it was a self she had never experienced before. Gagged and tied up and pushed to the brink of every sensation she had ever felt. Pain and pleasure were rolled into one and nothing ever created had been more exquisite than the sensation.

Idly, Bethany picked up her brush nearby and tugged it through her dark, sleep-crinkled curls until they vaguely resembled something presentable. She was still entirely naked. A few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have ever stood in front of the mirror without her clothes on, but she just smiled a little bit now. Ciaran loved her curves. He loved the handfuls of warm flesh that moved beneath him when he pressed into her, when he teased her breasts or her rump, how they jiggled when he played with them and tormented her. She set her hairbrush down and turned to the door, opening it up and heading into the hallway beyond without even putting a bra on. Her fingers teased at the big ring on the front of her collar as she headed downstairs to the first level of the cabin.

Yes, it had to be early for what she had planned today, because it meant that Ciaran wouldn’t be awake yet. He wouldn’t be awake, and so he wouldn’t be able to gag her and tie her up to something before she had made breakfast for him. She wanted to cook for him, and she knew that there were actual ingredients in the kitchen even though she wasn’t really sure where they had been getting food otherwise. Beth had scarcely been out of the secret room behind the fireplace in the library since she had gotten here, and Ciaran only left occasionally himself. Still, food had been promptly delivered at every mealtime without fail.

No one was in the kitchen now, though, as she stepped into it naked. There was an apron resting on a peg on the wall, and she reached for it, pulling it over her head and letting it settle across her bare breasts. She tied the string around her waist, then opened up the refrigerator, pulling out a jug of milk, a box of eggs, and a few sticks of butter. The other ingredients she needed took a little longer to find, but after a few minutes, she produced flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt, along with a spinning spice rack containing cinnamon and nutmeg. It probably wouldn’t be as good as what Ciaran could afford to make, but these were the pancakes that she had been eating for as long as she could remember, and she knew the recipe perfectly.

Melted butter, one quarter cup; two eggs, beaten before being added to the flour and sugar mixture; just a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg to add the slightest bit of sweet heat. Bethany whisked it all together thoroughly, admiring the floury lumps left by the warm butter, before leaving it to sit as she found a skillet and put it on the top of the oven. The batter had to sit for ten minutes before being cooked, and she found two large plates in one of the cupboards and pulled out some orange juice from the fridge. Softly, Bethany began to hum to herself as she carefully set the breakfast nook table, admiring the delicate sprig of baby’s breath that was on a tiny vase in the center.

“I am not certain that this kitchen has ever been properly used.”

Beth had gotten used to Ciaran’s ability to prowl into a room completely unnoticed, and yet she still jumped slightly and spun around to face him. He was only casually dressed thus far—casually for him, anyway, with a white dress shirt and a pair of gray slacks. She hadn’t actually seen him naked yet. He always blindfolded her if he had the intention of taking off his clothes. Bethany blushed slightly at the reminder that she was only wearing an apron, but his gray eyes were approving as he approached the island in the center of the kitchen.

“Uhm, morning,” she greeted after a moment, quickly turning back around to finish setting out the silverware. “Yeah, I just… I thought it might be nice to eat something homemade before we get… distracted. I hope it’s okay that I just helped myself.”

“It’s fine, Bethany,” he answered lightly, moving nearer to her and kissing her forehead softly as he moved to sit down. “Besides, contrary to what you may have thought, I did sample some of those cakes and cupcakes that you made. They were delicious, so I can only assume that your pancakes are just as satisfying.”

She smiled brightly at him. “Thank you. I hope so. They’re an old family recipe. Really easy, but nothing else I’ve ever had has beaten them. They’ll be ready before too long, the skillet just needs to heat up… Uhm, do you want any coffee? I don’t know where your coffeemaker is, but I’d be happy to make some.”

“I don’t have a coffeemaker. I’ve never been particularly fond of artificial energy boosters such as caffeine. I do have some tea, though, if you would like that,” Ciaran offered lightly, even as he reached for the cup of orange juice she had poured and sipped at that.

“No, that’s okay. I’m actually… really energized myself, even with how… intense the past few days have been,” Beth replied, with a blush lifting to her cheeks again as she returned to the skillet. She gave the bowl of batter one more whisk before pouring out the first pancake into the warm pan. It was easy at least to find a spatula hanging from the rack over the island.

He was quiet for a minute as he watched her work; she could feel his gaze on her hips and her bare ass, and swallowed softly as she monitored the edges of the pancake. It didn’t take long to need to flip it. She smiled softly to herself at how thick and fluffy it looked, and after another minute scraped it off to deposit on a plate. The next bit of batter was poured into the skillet.

“I am glad you have been enjoying yourself, sweet Bethany,” Ciaran broke the silence at last, and she froze, gulping down a wave of excited trepidation as his voice lowered to a familiar purr. When he was happy with her, if she was doing something right while trapped under his cuffs and chains, he always sounded like that. “Play with your clit.”

“Yes, Master,” Beth breathed, licking her lips lightly. Instantly, her hand darted between her thighs, shoving aside the edge of the apron. She moaned softly as her fingers parted her nether lips and found that oh-so-sensitive button between her thighs, rubbing at it slowly as her other hand flipped the pancake.

She could hear the chair he was seated in scrape lightly across the kitchen floor as he stood again and drew nearer to her. His hands found her hips, and soon he was grinding against her rear as he bent over her shoulder, nibbling at her skin. Beth moved the second pancake off the skillet and set aside the spatula for a second so she could pour out another one into the griddle.

“There is a temptation, I think,” Ciaran growled softly into her ear, “to bend you over the island and spank you until you come. We have both discovered, after all, that you do so
enjoy
that… But what a waste of perfectly good pancakes that would be. Put two fingers inside of your slit.”

Beth had still been playing with her clit as his hot mouth moved over her throat, but she instantly abandoned it to thrust two fingers deep inside her hot, dampening tunnel, gasping as she did. He smirked against her. Some part of her ached at the thought that he wouldn’t spank her to save the pancakes, but she nodded softly.

“Yes, Master… It would be tragic…” Ciaran grinned against her neck, and then Beth squealed when his hand smacked down hair upon the round, exposed curve of her ass. She hissed and shuddered, pressing her thighs against one another as she barely remembered to flip the pancake.

“We can, however, see about teaching you a bit more control, I think… Last night I told you that you could come as many times as you wanted, but this time, you are not allowed to come until you have finished every bite of your pancakes. Remove your fingers.” She did as commanded, wiping them off thoroughly on her apron; she’d wash them once this pancake was off the skillet…

His words, though, had more than betrayed that he had more planned, and Beth tensed when she heard a familiar humming behind her. “Open your thighs.” She gulped and did as ordered, only to moan deeply as a thick, whirring vibrator slid inside of her slit, filling her practically to the brim and making her quiver uncontrollably, aching. “Good girl… Now, as I said, you are not allowed to come until you’ve finished your breakfast… If you do, you will wear those delightful bell clamps the rest of the day, without the ice this time. Understood?”

“Y-yes, Master,” Bethany stammered, shutting her eyes tightly as she pressed her thighs together again and tried to focus on something other than that incessant whirring that made her arousal pour down her thighs.

Ciaran moved away from her, resuming his seat as she put the third pancake on his plate; the recipe made six. Quickly, she shuffled to the sink and washed off her fingers before carrying his plate to him, blushing deeply and trying to ignore how he was smirking at her. “Do not forget the butter and syrup, Bethany.”

She nodded mutely and went to the fridge, finding spreadable butter and setting it on the island. She didn’t have any idea where the syrup was, though, and she whimpered and moaned as she desperately searched for where it was stashed; every minute she wasted was another minute she grew closer to her punishment. God, she didn’t know how long she could hold it in, especially after last night. Her thighs were trembling, when she almost squealed with delight as she found the syrup bottle. Hastily, she headed back to the table and set it down for him before moving back to the stove to make her stack of pancakes.

Beth could feel his gaze upon her as he slowly, nonchalantly ate away at his stack of pancakes, enjoying her predicament immensely. “Mm… These are very good pancakes, sweet Bethany. Cinnamon, is it?”

“A-and nutmeg, Master,” she confirmed faintly as she hurriedly flipped the first pancake onto her plate.

“Don’t cook them too quickly, sweet Bethany. You wouldn’t want them still to be mostly batter.” She whimpered and nodded, shutting her eyes and forcing herself to wait until the next pancake was properly cooked before shifting it onto her plate. Finally she poured the last one, which spread out onto the pan a little too small, but more than big enough to be edible. Anxiously, Beth shifted on the balls of her feet as she stood there staring at the batter, willing it to cook. It didn’t seem to really have the inclination, and her slit was pulsing and pouting between her legs as she forced herself to think of anything but her growing arousal.

Finally, the pancake was done and she hurried over to the table after turning off the burner and grabbing her plate. She gasped harshly as she sat down and the vibrator wedged itself deeper into her slit, in time with Ciaran’s chuckle. The butter and syrup were still right beside him, and he only lifted a brow at her when she looked at him plaintively. Beth whimpered, then stood up enough to grab the butter and syrup before sitting back down. A shudder wracked her for a moment, toes curling under her seat, and she reached for her knife.

For the first time in her life, she hated her diligent need to thoroughly butter every inch of the top of each pancake; she wished she had just taken to heart her father’s motto that only the top pancake needed butter. Ciaran was barely halfway through his stack as he watched her pour a bunch of syrup on top and cut into the first bite. Three thick pancake slices were stuffed into her mouth, while she squirmed and her hips jerked.

Her eyes lifted to him quickly when he stood without finishing and moved around to stand behind her chair; his hands slid beneath her apron and cupped her breasts, fingers slowly twisting at her nipples. A new source of heat made her moan through her mouthful.

“I don’t think you’re going to make it, sweet Bethany,” he whispered into her ear. “I want every bite chewed thoroughly and swallowed before you come. I just don’t think you have the composure to manage it, what with that eager little slit of yours down there… I think I’ll just get these pretty nipples ready for their new adornments for the day.”

Bethany swallowed her pancake bite and gasped out, “Cheater!” before shoving another bite into her mouth. He only laughed and one hand slid down over her stomach, until his fingers were poised where hers had started, rubbing firmly against her clit.